


Divergence

by darkforetold



Series: Mirrors [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Amputation, M/M, Medical Trauma, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 07:50:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkforetold/pseuds/darkforetold
Summary: Jesse suffers a loss.He’d been nothing to everyone, and the thought ofmattering to someone… That feeling was the thing that dragged him out of the gutter and into Deadlock, made him conform and twist himself into a weapon for Blackwatch. And when Gabriel Reyes refused to even acknowledge his existence, effectively making him a nobody to anyoneagain, Jesse McCree got desperate.—and fucked up.





	Divergence

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my lovely beta @rosewrought.

  


The drive to be something to someone was in every fiber of Jesse’s being. Maybe it had to do with the fact that his family had left him to rot in a no-name town at a young age. Or that, for a long time, he’d been invisible to everyone while he’d lived on the streets. He’d been nothing to everyone, and the thought of _mattering to someone_ … That feeling was the thing that dragged him out of the gutter and into Deadlock, made him conform and twist himself into a weapon for Blackwatch. And when Gabriel Reyes refused to even acknowledge his existence, effectively making him a nobody to anyone _again_ , Jesse McCree got desperate.

—and fucked up.

Lives were on the line. It was beeping, loudly, quickly, with a bunch of hostages in a room just down the hall. Reyes was yelling in his ear to stop, but he didn’t listen. They didn’t have time to wait for someone more qualified. The building would go up in flames if he didn’t do something. Jesse made do with the knowledge he had—and cut the wrong wire. He wanted to save those hostages and impress his commanding officer. Show him that he was someone and could be something to him. 

Everything that could backfire did instead.

Jesse woke to the rhythmic beeping of machines and the scent of sterilization that could only have belonged to a hospital room. He was groggy, his mind fuzzy, his body… aching like it never had before. Something… tickling his forehead. When he lifted his arm—

He stared at the bandaged stump in horror, and everything hit him at once. The pain slithering up his shoulder, nausea, breathlessness… his head swam, his chest tightened, his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his throat. He took in gasping aborted breaths, and the machines around him beeped faster, louder—

His world blackened around the edges, then blinked out completely. 

He dreamt of Reyes. Kicking him out of Blackwatch. _Useless_ , he’d said. _Broken_. 

_Pathetic_.

Jesse came to sometime later, and he stared at the crack in the wall. There, alone in his sterile room, he began to unravel. Whatever sense of self and identity he’d built over the last few years crumbled as the minutes ticked by. The walls he’d erected inside himself, to keep back the pain of losing his Deadlock family, the anger and resentment he had toward Blackwatch for ruining his life. The loneliness he felt, the absolute emptiness that hollowed out a space inside him—Reyes’ rejection of him… _everything_.

When the door swung open, Jesse had to choke back his tears.

“Jesse needs to rest, Gabriel,” he heard Dr Ziegler say.

“I got this, Angela. Can you give us a moment, please?”

A moment’s pause. He felt eyes on him. “S’fine, Angie.”

Hard heels and the soft click of the door left them alone in a room that suddenly felt suffocating. Jesse turned his face away and locked his eyes on the view outside. The brick walls, the weathered cracks, even staring at the chipped paint on the walls was better than looking into Reyes’ eyes. Any disappointment there would kill him.

He could almost hear Reyes’ jaw slide into a tight line as he sat in the chair next to his bed. The air was tense just because Reyes existed, and Jesse felt sick with it. Sick and tired. Exhausted.

Careless.

Jesse clenched his own jaw, leveled him with an even stare. Faced him like a man, not a wanton boy hot for his cock. He lifted his brows and said, flatly, “You gonna berate me on how much I fucked up? How I shouldn’t’a risked my own life for a buncha hostages? Gonna tell me I’m more important than some civilians?”

Reyes didn’t move, blink, breathe, a perfect statue in a white, white room. “No.”

Jesse curled in on himself. Half of him _wanted_ to be torn down for being reckless. Most of him wanted Reyes to tell him that, yes, goddamnit, he _was_ more important. Fuck, _that he loved him_. But staring into those cool brown eyes, he wondered if Reyes felt anything at all. He wondered if, under all that skin, he was a monster.

His neck stiffened. “Why’d you come here then?”

“For your report.”

Jesse let out half a laugh, then turned his head away. “Can’t even fucking wait until I’m—“

“Better? Like this is, what, some minor injury? You lost your fucking arm, _Jesse_.”

There it was. The thread he needed. Jesse followed that ribbon of anger back to Reyes’ face, to the lips that were pressed hard and thin, to the eyes that flinted black in the fluorescent light. Somewhere, underneath all that… hardness, Reyes cared. He searched Reyes’ face. He needed more.

“I should’ve listened to you,” Jesse whispered, placating.

“You’re damn right you should have,” Reyes rumbled. “I could have…”

Jesse let his eyes tick up, locking onto Reyes’ deep browns, looking for anything that said he cared more than the little he let on.

“Blackwatch could’ve lost an agent. A good one.”

Jesse let out a shallow breath, stamping down whatever disappointment and hurt he felt, and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. He’d never get what he wanted from Reyes, so he recited his report instead. Every step leading up to the explosion, the miscalculation, the way he’d ignored Reyes’ orders—the heat he felt on his skin, the darkness that devoured his senses. It felt… methodical, easy, familiar, and going through the motions of a subordinate reporting to his commander settled his frazzled mind. And if that was Reyes’ intention, to soothe him with the modus operandi of his agency, then…

Reyes leaned forward. His closeness was startling, and Jesse looked at him wide eyed. Fingers slipped through his tangled hair, and Jesse rested his head on the pillow, angling his chin into Reyes’ palm. There was no hardness in his brown eyes, just… something… soft, even sorrowful. Like he was sorry, but he couldn’t bear to say the words. Warmth bloomed in Jesse’s chest, made him ache. They looked at each other for a long, silent moment, before Reyes let his fingers slip through his hair to lightly grip the ends. “You need to get your hair cut. It’s not to code,” as if saying that would explain away the tender touch.

_I love you_ , he wanted to say.

“Yes, sir,” was what he said instead.

Jesse spent days under Dr Ziegler’s care. Often, he’d hear Reyes’ voice outside the door, receiving reports from agents on other missions, arguing with Dr Ziegler because, yes, he wanted to check on his agent again. Reyes even made Morrison come by for a meeting and conducted it in hushed voices outside his room.

Jesse fell soundly asleep every night knowing he was something to someone. That even broken, he was worthy.

He dreamt of heat and of snapping bones.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! <33


End file.
